Another Day on Paradise.
by baby jen
Summary: Carter speaks with his therapist for the first time since leaving Atlanta. His thoughts towards end of season. Please R&R!


(DISCLAIMER: Much to my despair I do not own any of the ER characters!)  
  
TITLE: Another day in Paradise.  
  
AN: Carter speaks to a therapist as part of his rehab-outpatient programme.  
Essentially he his discussing his life since Atlanta etc. Read on!!   
  
Please Review! Baby Jen.  
  
  
  
Carter walked nervously to the Doctor's Lounge. He opened the door and sheepishly  
slid into the seat opposite the man waiting for him.  
  
"Carter, John Carter?"  
  
Carter looked across at his former therapist. He had not seen him since  
Atlanta...6 months ago. Now he was here-in Chicago. Somehow it brought the  
reality home to him. It was always with him wherever he went...he was   
recovering drug addict.  
  
"Ugh-yeah...hi...again!?"  
  
The therapist looked back at John and-sensing his discomfort-began off with   
'small talk'.  
  
"Well John-I just ran into your Cheif-Dr Weaver? Yeah she arranged this room   
for us. Nice Lady, you..."  
  
"Look, Dr Caldwell, Why don't we dispense with the small talk Doctor, and get to the point-I  
to the point. Not that this is even necessary coz quite frankly *you can't tell me   
anything I don't already know!* Now can we get on with it if we must-I have   
alot of work to do."   
  
This wasn't actually true, as Kerry had given him the day off but all the same  
-why should he have to be there longer than necessary? The whole thing was a  
waste of time-he was doing OK, wasn't he?  
  
Carter felt bad for his rude reaction and mumbled feebly his apologies.  
  
"Don't worry about it John, I've had far, far worse! But as you wish, let us  
move onto the fundamentals. How many 'slips' have you had since we left off in   
Atlanta?"  
  
"HEY-whu do you immediately assume that I had a 'slip'? God-you don't ask "IF"  
I've had any-no, no it's immediately onto the "HOW MANY". Hell, no one will  
EVER trust me ever again you're all the same!!  
  
Dr Caldwell observed the young man before him quietly.   
  
"Who, John?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You said 'you're all the same, you'll don't trust me'-WHO else are you  
talking about?"  
  
"It's nothing..."  
  
"...John..."  
  
John sighed resignedly.   
  
"Dr...Dr Weaver...and the faculty board."  
  
"Explain."  
  
John focused away from the therapist and onto the floor as he replied.  
  
"'sigh' I applied for the Cheif Resident Position for the up-coming year  
and my application was intercepted because...because of what happened."  
  
"Your addiction?"  
  
"No, because I wore mismatching socks...OF COURSE the addiction, for crying  
out loud! That's all I represent to anyone anymore. It doesn't matter what  
I say, or what I do or how much time passes -I'll always be 'that addict'."  
  
Carter stood up and walked over to the coffee machine.  
  
"It's-it's ...ugh. You know what? I can't even complain about it not being   
fair either. I'm lucky to be even practising medicine anymore -especially   
after...*sigh*. You were right Dr Caldwell. I *did* have 1 'slip'."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Uh...a month or so ago!? I'd been on all day, then up all night with my   
friend who went into labour, then I had to start work again. I was  
so *tired* and this patient had some vicodin...it was just sitting  
there on the table...I didn't even think about it till after I'd taken 'em."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Huh? Oh-uh, 2-I took 2. But I realised almost straight away what I'd done.  
I panicked and ran into a bathroom stall, stuck two fingers down my throat   
and brought them up. "  
  
"So they were never actually in your system?"  
  
"No-but I still took 'em- all the same."  
  
The room went silent. Carter sat down opposite the psychiatrist wishing they  
had been in a room besides the Dr.'s lounge. The idea that everyone  
knew to stay away from the room because *he* needed therapy made him feel  
weak. Which was just the way he felt after the Vicodin incident. *weak*  
  
As though he were reading Carter's thoughts, the therapist spoke.  
  
"You know-you musn't feel discouraged John, Actually I feel you're doing   
quite well. Just one 'incident', you acted fast so as to stop it ever   
entering you're system, so essentially you've remained narcotic free  
for 6 months now. Don't let one 'scare' erase all the hard work you've   
put in to come this far!"  
  
" *sigh* I know but... sometimes I feel like I'm working so hard to get  
my life back-but I'm never going to get it back. I mean c'mon-the board  
is hardly going to change it's opinion of me next year either. Hah-Cheif  
Resident, yeah right. I was foolish to think they'd consider me-Weaver   
was right. In the eyes of the everyone I only represent 1 thing; a pathetic   
drug addict foolishly trying to regain a life that's long gone, I guess."  
  
Before the therapist could respond John began to speak again.  
  
"AND IT *IS* HARD! It's not like getting this far was easy. Every damn day  
from the moment I get up till the moment I'm asleep I'm fighting the temptation  
-I'm fighting damn hard, and I just feel like why bother sometimes? I'm treated  
like a druggie whether I'm clean or not-so why fight so hard to stay clean if  
I'm still treated like a junkie either way, I...."  
  
Carter put his hands to his face and dropped his head. He fiercly fought   
the urge to scream or cry. Now he thought of it-he hardly had the energy  
to do either.  
  
Dr Caldwell rose and spoke slowly yet cheerfully.  
  
"Well, Dr Carter-you seem to be coming along OK. The way you're feeling is   
perfectly natural for someone in your situation. It seems bad now, but trust  
me-stick with what you're doin' and you'll get through it. It'll work out!"   
  
Carter looked up puzzled.  
  
"Wha..that's it?"  
  
"Yup, you just need time to adjust-and so do your colleagues. As for theCheif  
Resident slot-it's just as well-you still need to take it a little slowly for  
a bit longer. Good Luck with next year's application though!"  
  
"Wha...wait a minute-that's all you have to say? 'stick with it-it'll be ok?'  
  
"Absolutely. Well-I need not take up any more of your time Dr Carter.  
I'm pleased with your recovery so far-and wish you further success."  
  
"But-But I don't understand...you-you don't wanna know more about the vicodin  
or, or how it's affecting my work or.."  
  
"No, I don't. You know why?"  
  
"WHY?"  
  
Dr Caldwell smiled.  
  
"Because you were right the first time John. I wouldn't be able to tell  
you anything you don't already know."   
  
He chuckled a little then continued.  
  
"No-one said this would be easy John-it's an every day struggle for quite  
a while. But you'll get there in the end. You'll beat it. You've got the  
courage it takes."   
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
Dr Caldwell opened the door, turned around and smiled.  
  
"If you didn't-you wouldn't be *here* now. Good bye Dr Carter." 


End file.
